When Did I Lose My Mind?
by Dakota-Jones
Summary: The newsies are sick of Jack stereotyping them, and they think he's gotten a little high on himself. So what do they do? A 3 day long lodging house prank that will involve everyone, including the King of Brooklyn himself, and is bound to cause trouble...
1. Plots

AN: Alright, people, this is a departure from what I usually write, but the suspense was draining me seriously, and I have some serious writer's block on 'Beautiful Secrets', so I'm gonna relax and loosen up a bit. Here's some humor for ya! Also…this is my first fic with Spot in it…and I'm a little nervous about how I write him…so don't kill me, please? I know all you people out there love Spot, so I'll try to behave…* snickers evilly * Oh, and even Jack fans will like this fic, I promise!

Summary: The newsies are sick of Jack stereotyping them and they think he's becoming far too high on himself. So what do they go and do? Play a prank on him that will envelope the whole lodging house _and the King of Brooklyn himself…_

PLEASE READ!!!  Don't be confused. The first chapter is narrative, the rest is Jack's POV!!

            "Jack's late. Again."

            The entire bunkroom groaned as Mush walked in and gave this latest announcement. They knew Kloppman would be in a foul mood tomorrow morning with Jack walking in late for the third night in a row.

            "What's wrong, Mush?" Blink asked, noticing that his friend was a whole lot less chipper than usual.

            "He called me a softy again. In front of everyone at Tibby's. I'm getting' sick of it, ya know?"

            "Yeah, I know."

            Skittery threw his hat onto his bunk. "He needs a good slap in the face, that's all. He's getting' a little too high on hisself."

            A smile began to form on Racetrack's face. "Skittery…for once ya said somethin' I agree with…and I have just da right idea."

            For once, the boys were glad that Jack came in late. By the time he walked in and fell asleep, all the other boys were asleep and the entire plan had been laid out.

            Come tomorrow, Jack Kelly would be wondering if he'd gone insane.

AN: Ah, I love cliffhangers! This is gonna be good. Oh yes…this is going to be very fun. Hold onto your seats, kiddos…this is gonna be one helluva ride! 


	2. Insanity

AN: Alright, the rest of this fic is from Jack's POV, for those of you who didn't bother to read my warning in chapter 1. I wanna get right to it, so lets have some fun! Even Kloppman's gonna be in on the fun! * snicker *

            I heard the footsteps on the stairs, and I knew what was about to happen. Yelling, poking, complaining…the usual.

"Boys, get up. I'm not going to tell you twice."

The footsteps retreated back down the stairs, and I shot wide awake. Was I dreaming? Did I just hear Kloppman say he wasn't going to tell us twice? Was he sick or something?

I sat up as all the other newsies began to wake each other up. No one else seemed to think it was weird that Kloppman had just said that and left. They were all going about their morning business, as usual…but something just wasn't quite normal.

I shrugged it off and began to get dressed. The Skittery walked up to me, pulling up his suspenders as he said, "So, how'd ya sleep, Jack?"

Wait a second. Skittery? He gave me a hurt look when I didn't answer.

"Skittery…are you okay?"

He grinned and punched me playfully in the shoulder. "Of course! I ain't nevah been bettah!" Then he went on to the mirrors. I stopped Mush as he walked by, and he gave me the maddest look I think I'd ever seen on his face- ever.

"What's wrong with Skittery?" I asked, my hand still on Mush's shoulder.

"I don't know. Get your hand offa me, ya bum. I ain't your poisonal leanin' post."

I jerked my hand back as Mush walked away, a smile not once touching his face. I started shaving, hoping that this was just some kind of a fluke. It was like Mush and Skittery had just switched bodies or something…nah. Maybe Mush was in a rare bad mood and Skittery had gotten a girl or something. Yeah…that had to be it.

"Yeah, I can't wait ta get down to da tracks. I got a hot tip on numbah seventeen, she's a sure winnah." Race was saying. Wait…no…that wasn't Racetrack…

Why in the world was Dutchy talking about going to the tracks?!

"Hey, Race, are you goin' to da tracks today?" I asked him as he joined me at the mirror. He looked at me like I'd just said that it snowed last night- in the middle of July.

"Me? Go to da tracks? What planet are you livin' on, Jack? I jest got a new book yesterday…it's by Shakespeare. I can't wait ta sit down and read it."

Oh. My. God. 

Something was really wrong here.

"Blink, what's goin' on, man?" I asked Kid as he walked by. I fully expected him to get mad at me- he's always in a bad mood in the morning.

"What do ya mean, Jack? Are you alright? Do ya need me ta go get Kloppman?" 

God. If I weren't looking straight at the eye patch, I would have sworn that was Dutchy talking. But Dutchy was still gushing about how he was going to win the poker game tonight when he never even plays poker.

"Come on, Jack, cheer up! The sun is shinin', and we got papes ta sell!" Skittery said, beaming as he threw an arm around my shoulder and led me down the stairs.

"But, you guys-"

"What's your problem today, Jack? You act like youse got a…whatsit called…concussion or somethin'." Crutchy said, practically spitting daggers with his words. It was like he was speaking for Blink while Blink was speaking for Dutchy and Dutchy was speaking for Race and Race was speaking for Specs and…what the hell was going on?!

When did I lose my mind?!

AN: This is just the beginning, folks! Just wait until he goes to the distribution office, where our pal Davey shall be waiting…Oh, do I have plans for Jacky-boy…review, please!


	3. The King of Brooklyn?

AN: More insanity ahead…

            I avoided talking to the other guys as we walked to the distribution office to buy our papes, but I sure did watch and listen. Something weird was definitely going on.

            Skittery and Crutchy were hanging out and talking just like Mush and Blink would've. Mush was walking by himself, a glum look still on his face. Blink and Racetrack were walking together, having a quiet conversation about some author guy. Specs was running around stealing people's hats, giggling maniacally and just being plain annoying. Dutchy soon caught up to Skittery and Crutchy and started trying to get them to bet on how many papers he would sell today.

            They were all insane.

            Or maybe I was insane.

            I couldn't wait to get to the distribution office and talk to David about this. Surely he would see what was going on.

            Or so I thought.

            "Well if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick."

            I looked up and came face to face with Davey, who had his nose in the air and his chest stuck out as if he were royalty.

            "Heya, Davey. You know bettah den ta use Spot's phrases without askin' him first." I joked, and he suddenly grabbed me by the shirt collar, almost lifting me off the ground.

            "I'll say what I wanna say, when I wanna say it. And I expect you ta call me _David. Not __Davey. Youse got dat?"_

            I was stunned. This wasn't David! This was Spot! But no…Spot was in Brooklyn…and…

            "Hey Jack…you rub David the wrong way again?"

            David dropped me and Spot walked up to me, a good natured smile on his face.

            "Spot…something weird is goin' on heah…"

            "What is it? I'm sure there's a logical explanation for it."

            My mouth had to be on the ground by now. Did Spot just say that? Was I hearing things?

            Mush ran into me, mostly because I was standing right in the middle of the stairs.

            "Get outta my way! What's your problem, ya turn crip or somethin'?" he yelled, shoving me so hard that I almost fell off the deck.

            I felt like crying. This was wrong. I was sick or something…yeah, that was it. I was sick. 

            But how would my being sick make Specs run around acting like Snipeshooter? And how would my being sick turn Spot into a smart, logical guy and Davey into a man to be feared citywide? And turn Dutchy into an overnight gambler, and Race into a bookworm?

            "My head hurts…" I muttered, sliding down the wall and not bothering to push my way to the head of the line for papers.

            "You okay, Jack?" Skittery asked, offering a hand to help me up.

            "No, no, NO! Skittery, you're supposed to be in a bad mood! And, and….Mush! You're supposed to be da happy one, da one dat's helpin' me up heah!"

            Skittery, once again, looked like a wounded puppy. "You mean…you don't want my help?" he whimpered. I groaned and dropped my head into my hands, trying to ignore the fact that Mush's gaze was so piercing that it was unnerving.

            Spot walked up to me, Les trailing behind him. "Are you going to sell with me today, Jack. I mean, to help out Les and all. He still needs some work."

            I was slowly getting over the shock, but this was too much. I just nodded as the King-of-Brooklyn-turned-scholar helped me to my feet and led me to the window to buy my papers.

AN: Whew, this is fun! I'm so evil…


	4. Tracks and Alleys

AN: Thanks for reviewing- onward we go!

            "But Jaaaaack…we've been walking for hours…my feet hurt…can't we take a break?"

            "No. We's going to da tracks, Spot."

            "But that's so far away!"

            "Yeah, well, suck it up and get ovah it. We've only been walking for a half hour, ya wimp!"

            I never thought I'd get away with calling Spot Conlon a wimp right to his face, but here I was. He'd been doing nothing but whining ever since we left with our papers. It was like I was walking around with a first day newsie, just getting used to the physical demands. 

            "Why are we going to da tracks, Jack?" Les asked.

            "Cause I'm goin' ta check on Dutchy."

            "Why?"

            "Cause those gamblers down dere are gonna chew him up and spit him out if someone ain't there ta help."

            Boy…was I ever wrong.

            Dutchy was actually _running a poker game_ in the middle of a horse race, and occasionally looking up to see how his horse was doing. _And he was winning both_.

            "That's a straight against two of a kind! Pay up, boys!" he said, and various grumbles were heard as the men threw change down on the makeshift table and walked away. Dutchy began to count his earnings, smiling even bigger when he looked up and saw that his horse had finished first.

            I had to be dreaming. Dutchy never gambled with us- he said it would be the death of us to gamble our lives away. And here he was, suddenly able to pay rent for the next week.

            I didn't even bother to climb up and talk to him. I turned on my heels and stalked away, heading back toward Manhattan.

            And on the way, I found Mush. 

            "Mush, are you okay? What happened?" I asked. He had a black eye and his shirt sleeve was ripped.

            "It ain't none of your business, _Cowboy. Why don't you jest scram?"_

            He walked away, and I looked in the alley he had come out of- both of the Delancey brothers lay there, moaning and nursing various wounds. And just who happened to be walking out of the alley at that moment? Skittery.

            He was beaten up pretty bad. But that's not what scared me. What scared me was that he looked close to tears.

            "Skittery?"

            "They came afta me, Jack, I swear. I didn't start nothin'!"

            "Are you okay?"

            He sniffed and looked at the ground. "Yeah, I guess. I was jest scared."

            He suddenly broke down into tears and fell against me, and I just let him cry on my shoulder for a minute. I had to figure out what this was. Skittery _never cried. __Never. And he never got beat up this bad, either._

            "Look, it's gonna be okay. I…I'll buy you extra dessert at Tibby's today, alright?"

            He sniffed again and nodded, grabbing his papers from the ground and walking away, wiping the tears off his face.

            "Come on, Spot. We've got papes to sell."

            He groaned and grumbled all morning, and come time for lunch, I was ready for a break.

            But I didn't get one, cause I walked into Tibby's, and Mush greeted me with a huge smile.

            Everyone was back to normal. 

            And no one seemed to remember how they were acting that whole morning.

            _At least it's over…_

AN: But, Jack, it isn't over. No, it's far from over…we've still got two more days to torture you with!


End file.
